Reaching Highclere
by DowntonMakeMeHollaHunnyBooBoo
Summary: Emilie is a 14 year old cancer patient, content with spending the rest of her life writing Downton fanfiction and acting in her school plays. That is all turned upside down when a not-so-mysterious visitor shows up at one of her rehearsals, setting Emilie on the path to reach Highclere. -Not exactly AU, but not canon... Read it to understand.-
1. Chapter 1

**-1-**  
**Tricks of the Trade**

I sighed and locked up my locker for the day. The hallway had finally emptied enough for me to leave, so I began the daily routine of slowly wheeling myself down to the theater. Upon reaching it, I sped down the back way ramp to reach the backstage door. I'm the only person allowed to use this entrance, and that's only because of my chair, which I've affectionately named Carl.

"Emilie!" my best friend Liz shouted, racing up onto the stage to hide behind me, followed closely by my other besties Jess and Emmy, "They've gone crazy! Jess is trying to kill me, and Emmy is trying to force me to eat raisins!"

"You're all crazy," I laughed. This kind of behavior is totally normal for my friends, they're just extremely high-energy people. I used to have as much energy as them, but that was pre-cancer. "Care to put Carl in his corner? And sign me in?" I got up and took a few shaky steps down the stairs at the front of the stage and plopped myself down in a front-row seat. I absolutely hate asking for help, I really do, but life would be impossible if I didn't. So I just suck it up and ask.

Liz, Jess, and Emmy sit down next to me just as our director takes the stage to begin rehearsal. "One, two, three," Mrs. Grindahl shouts out, and we all clap immediately. It's a sign of how great of a director she is- she can silence 50 middle schoolers with three words and a responsive clap. "Thank you. Alrighty, today's announcements... Mr. K is out sick today, so Mrs. Lake, the crew manager, will be stepping in for him until he returns. Marissa, have you finished checking who's not here?"  
"Yep!" Marissa said form over by the sign-in wall.  
"Who are we missing?"  
"Jill Collins?" Jill is another close friend of mine, and I raised my hand to say that Jill was with a teacher. "Lori Flint?" This time it was Liz who informed us that Lori was with Jill. "Ok, that's it," Marissa said, heading back to her seat next to Emmy.  
"Thanks, Marissa. Ok, today we're running Act One off book, which means absolutely no scripts on stage. You should have memorized your lines by now, but if you forget just call out 'line' and Mrs. Lake will prompt you on what your. One last thing before we begin. My father-in-law's friend, Mr. Fellowes," Mrs. G gestured to a fattish bald man sitting next to her 'director's chair', and he gave a slight wave and smile, "Is going to be watching our rehearsal today. Places for Act One, Scene One."

Liz rolled Carl over from his corner to the top of the steps to meet me, "Did you get a good look at Mrs. G's friend?" I ask her before sitting down in Carl.  
"No, why?"  
"His first name is Julian."  
"So?"  
"Put his first name and last name together."  
"Um, ok... Julian Fellowes. I don't get it," She gave me a look like I was crazy, but I didn't say anything, letting her work it out for herself. "Wait. Julian Fellowes as in _the_ Julian Fellowes? As in the creator of Downton Abbey, as in God's personal gift to television?!"  
"The one and only," Liz and I had been worshipping Julian Fellowes for about seven months, after seeing our first episode of Downton (which also happened to be the day of my last chemotherapy treatment (hopefully) ever).  
"What do you think he's doing here?"  
"I don't know," I wheel Carl and I into my place, "But I'm glad I stayed up last night memorizing, because I am _not_ calling for line in front of _Julian Fellowes_."  
"Crap. Where's my script? I'm not on until scene two, so I better get my lines down fast," And with that, Liz rushed off, leaving me to wait for my cue line in solitude.

The show we're doing is a modern adaptation of Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_. I play Vanessa, the 21st Century's version of Valentine, one of Orsino's (now Oliver's) assistants. Jess is Curio (now Cassie) another assistant, Liz is Viola/Cesario (now Violet/Zach), and Emmy and Marissa are both Lady Olivia's palace guards, with the funniest lines in the entire story. I hear my cue line, stand up out of Carl, and stride onto the stage with confidence.

* * *

My osteosarcoma is kind of tricky. Thanks to chemo and multiple surgeries, I've been cancer free for about a month, which isn't really cancer free. You're not actually cancer free until five years after initially being proclaimed cancer free. Most people are really confused when I stand up to walk on stage, but I negotiated four hours of time out of Carl with my doctors as part of physical therapy. Two hours are spent on theater, the other two on actual physical therapy. Technically, rehearsal is two and a half hours long, so I'm required to use Carl every single second I'm off stage. I hate Carl. I just want to walk like a normal person. I want to have not spent most of sixth and seventh grade in the hospital. I want to not have to take a total of 36 pills a day. It's all just wants and wishes that will never come true. I need to stop living in the pre-cancer past, but that's hard when the past was so much better than the present.

* * *

Rehearsal goes great. I don't call for my line once, and neither does Liz. I can feel Julian's eyes on me more often than not, even when I'm not on stage, but I can't blame him. It's hard not to stare at me. During break, I'm backstage and overhear his conversation with Mrs. G. They don't know I'm listening, and I feel bad for listening, but the conversation is about me and the curtain hides me from sight...

"Who's the girl with the wheelchair?" Julian asks bluntly.

"That's Emilie Christianson," Mrs. G tells him.

"What's her story? I'm not meaning to sound rude, but I'm curious."

"She has osteosarcoma in her right leg, just below the knee... Or she had it, she was declared cancer free last month, but there's still a chance of relapse. Her doctors allow her minimal time out of her chair, which she's named Carl, and she uses about half of the time here."

"I see," I thought he was going to continue on the subject of me, but he instead switched topics to the production we had just given him a glimpse of. "I must say Kelsey, this is quite an impressive set up you've got here. There are quite a few of your actors and actresses that interest me. Who would you say is your most talented?"

"Well, for this particular show, it's Liz. For the last one, it was Jess. But I'd say, for what you're looking for, it's Emilie. And that has nothing to do with the cancer. Emilie is a genuinely talented actress. She can make you feel the emotion of a scene the second time she reads it. She's a hard worker, too. Last year, she was in and out of the hospital a lot, but she continued to work on her lines and skyped herself into rehearsals she wasn't able to attend. We gave her an understudy, but that show, Emilie starred."

"Impressive. When's her next scene? I'd like a word with her without taking her away from the stage," I heard him stand, "You truly believe her to be what I'm looking for? I'm taking your word on this, Kelsey."

"She's the one, Julian. Her next scene is in about 20 minutes, but if you need more time, we'll just read out her lines until she's back."

"Thank you."

"Emilie," Mrs. G then called out to me.

"Yeah, Mrs. G?" Dang it, my voice is shakey. I couldn't believe the things Mrs. G said about my acting to _Julian Fellowes_. I'm also a bit starstruck that _Julian Fellowes_ is here, in _my_ theater.

"Mr. Fellowes wants a word with you, why don't you lead him to the back hallway and you two can talk out there?"

"Ok," I reply in a strange, overly sweet way, as Julian mounts the stage to follow me.

I wheel myself through the maze of backstage, making tight turns around various pieces of yet-to-be-assembled set, Julian following close behind. Thank god I don't get stuck on anything, _just imagining_ the embarrassment turns my cheeks red.

"I don't suppose you know who I am," he begins, once seated comfortably on a folding chair, "Other than Mrs. Grindahl introducing me as Mr. Fellowes, friend of old Mr. Grindahl."

"Actually, I do," I say, slightly embarrassed, "I'm assuming that your first name is Julian and that you are responsible, along with Gareth Neame for Downton Abbey?"

"Responsible for? You make it sound like an awful thing. I _created_ the show, my dear. Does this mean you're familiar with my work?"

"Just with Downton Abbey, but I consider myself to be highly familiar with that."

"How familiar?"

"Familiar enough to write one of 's most successful Downton Abbey fanfictions."

"I'd say that is pretty familiar, what's it called?"

"Reaching Highclere."

"A funny title that has nothing to do with the plot."

"The title symbolizes what I would consider to be the pinnacle of my acting career. Wait, how do you know it has nothing to do with the plot?"

"I've read it. In fact, I'm dying to know what happens in the next chapter."

"Wow, you've read it. I'm afraid I won't tell you what happens, you'll just have to find out yourself on Saturday, like all of my other readers," This whole situation is amazing, but I've somehow managed to avoid portraying my awe, and this easy banter is a result. "You didn't know I wrote RH until just now, right?"

"Oh, well, it was worth a shot. And no, I didn't know. I'd never had associated the pen name_ DowntonMakesMeHollaHunnyBooB oo_ with a Minnesotan named Emilie," he sighs and shifts in his chair. "Now, we should probably spend some time discussing my initial reason for pulling you aside."

"I've actually been dying to know the answer to that question since you sat down," I say lightly.

"I'm on a casting trip."

"A casting trip? Mr. Fellowes, I hate to break it to you, but your show is British, and this is America," I surprise myself by not fainting when he says _casting trip_.

"Yes, I'm aware, but Cora has American relatives in series four."

"I see," I'm not really sure where I fit in to all of this.

"You remember Rose?" He pauses and then continues onward after my slight nod of confirmation, "She was going to live at Downton, but things change. Then Cora's brother, Harold's family comes for a visit. It just so happens that Cora's fourteen year old niece has become quite the troublemaker in the states. Near the end of their visit, Harold and his wife decide to have their daughter stay on with her aunt and cousins for a couple of months in hopes that she changes her ways."

"I see," I say again, although I'm beginning to get where I fit into all of this.

"I've spent the last month and a half traveling around the US looking for the perfect actress. Today was my last stop, and lucky for me, I've found the perfect actress."

"Me?" Wow. Holy cow. "How do you know I'm the perfect actress? Mr. Fellowes, you've only seen me in three scenes. How do you _know_?"

"Call it one of the tricks of the trade if you wish, but I can just tell."

* * *

**Author's Note:**** Alright, I would prefer to just leave this first chapter as it is, but unfortunately, it needs a disclaimer.**

**1)I do not have osteosarcoma, I got the idea from ****_The Fault In Our Stars_**** by John Green.**

**2)My name is not Emilie Christianson.**

**3)All of the characters in this fic are based on real people, I have their consent, but I have changed their names.**

**4)This excludes Julian Fellowes, Gareth Neame, and the other extremely famous people coming up.**

**5)The events in this chapter are set in my middle school's theater.**

**6)I do not expect this fic to become this websites most successful Downton fic, but I needed a plausible circumstance under which Julian could have read Emilie's fic.**

**7)Emilie is based on myself.**

**8)I am not as talented an actress as Emilie.**

**9)This whole fic is a highly improbable situation, but it's fun to dream.**

**10)I also write Crossing The Bridge, Taking The Fence.**

**11)I was having writers' block with it, so I started this. Depending on the response, I may only start it again when this one is done.**

**Sorry for the length, I felt like I had some explaining to do. Oh, and I changed my pen name from Downtonite to what you see now.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Well hello there! How's everyone's lives? I have another chapter for you today, and I'm pretty sure it's been a week since I posted the first chapter. I'm warning you now that my updates will not be on a regular basis, however. My life is rather hectic and it's often difficult to find the time to write. That's about it for now. If you happen to be an avid Instagrammer like myself, you can go check out my Downton account, downton_fangirls, which I share with my fanfic author friend MunchkinLovesYou; or check out my personal, lady_della_christ. Ok, enjoy the chapter :)**

2. Such Wonderful Bliss

I roll my neck and shoulders in an attempt to stretch out the tension still in my system from last night's dinner and begin raking a comb through my thin, straight brown hair. Julian had come home with me to meet my parents, and to explain to them exactly what this meant. The way he acted and explained every last detail reminded me of how I imagine Albus Dumbledore explained magic to muggle parents of magical children. In this situation, I'm the witch, possibly going off to a place better than Hogwarts, and my parents are the clueless muggles.

Dinner was, at best, awkward. Two nights ago, I got into this big fight with my mom because I referred to Julian as the god of television to Liz when I was talking to her on the phone in my living room. My mom went off about how I was becoming 'too involved' and 'dangerously obsessed' with Downton. Eventually she calmed down, but only after my dad reminded her that she was just as obsessed with _Wheel of Fortune_ when she was my age (Can you imagine being obsessed with something as lame and boring as _Wheel of Fortune_?). She was still a little mad when I left for school the next morning, so bringing the god of television himself home for dinner without warning her first wasn't such a great thing.

Combing my hair doesn't take long, it only reaches my shoulders, and there's not much left of it after the chemo, so I trudge downstairs to Carl and some Saturday morning cartoon with Luke. I'm wheeling myself down the hallway towards the den when I hear my name drift out from behind my parents' closed bedroom door...

"Emilie deserves this, Paul, she's been through enough."

"I know, and I'm not saying she doesn't deserve it, she deserves it very much. I'm just saying that we need to think about how much this will disrupt our lives. We have to think about Luke, too. Emilie's not our only child. She'd be spending six months living in a different country. That's a long time for this family to be apart."

"We can't finish this now, we'll be late for the Cancer Team meeting,"

I didn't stay to hear my dad's response, I was racing down the hallway so they wouldn't catch me eavesdropping. I made it all the way to the end of the hall and halfway to the couch before they came out.

"Em?" my mom called.

"Yeah?" I turned around and wheeled back into the hall.

"Oh good, you're dressed," she walked around behind me to push me to the door, "We've got a CTM, is there anything you need? We have to go in like, 5 minutes."

"No, I'm good. Why the CTM?" I know why we're having the meeting, but I ask anyway.

"To discuss last night and see if all of this is possible," she says, grabbing her purse from the hook by the door.

"You ready?" my dad comes around the corner, carrying my one-and-a-half year old brother, Luke.

"Yep!" Mom says, in that weirdly enthusiastic way that only moms can do.

"Hey Luke," I stick up my arms and he climbs from Dad to sit on my lap, "Did you sleep good?" Luke just smiles and snuggles his face into my neck as Mom pushes Carl to the car.

Mom's pregnancy with Luke was horrible for me. I absolutely hated the idea that Mom was pregnant. Things were looking particularly grim for me when they announced it, so to me it seemed like they were replacing their dying daughter with another kid who wouldn't desert them. Of course, I could never say that I hate Luke now, his curly dark brown hair, clear blue eyes, and the fact that he prefers me to his own mother makes it impossible to not wrap myself around his little finger.

"Hey Emilie! How are you today?" Kalya, the cheery receptionist at the Children's Hospital says when I come wheeling in with Luke while my parents park the car.

"I'm ok, I guess. I've got a team meeting so, y'know."

"Yeah, I do know," she sighs.

"Andy?" Luke asks, knowing about the bowl of M&M's Kayla keeps on her desk.

"Yeah, I've got some candy," she smiles, "And you can have some, as long it's ok with your sister."

"Go ahead, it's not my job to keep you healthy," I say when he looks to me. Kayla extends a handful of M&M's to Luke and he cups both of his hands together to receive them. "Well Luke, should we go up?"

"Yeth," he says through a mouthful of chocolate, then to Kayla, "Fank ooo."

"See ya later, guys" she says, giving Luke a little wave.

I take Luke over to the elevator and tell him to push the 'up' button and then the '#4' button when we get inside. He smiles at me, happily chewing his candy. Luke rides on my lap a lot. It's easier than lugging both Carl and a stroller around, and he's so cute and light that I really don't mind. We leave the elevator at the fourth floor, where the offices are, and turn left to go down the long hallway with the CTM room at the end.

"Alright, do we get to know why a non-emergency meeting has been called now?" Dr. Fenway, my head doctor, says to my mom once everyone's seated.

"Em's been offered a role on a British television show," my mom says, "we called the meeting because it's filmed in London and we wanted to know how possible a move is."

The doctors then proceed to discuss everything with my mother in 'medical talk', leaving my dad and I very confused about what's going on. At the end of the meeting, Dr. Fenway explains the team's conclusion in terms my dad and I can understand. "We think Emilie should go for it," she's smiling, "We can't count her 100% cancer free for awhile, but since it has been a month and she's getting some of her strength back, we don't see why not. I have a friend who's a doctor working specifically with osteosarcoma in children living in London. He'll be able to keep an eye on you and do the checkups you would be getting here. It really is very possible, it's up to you wether she go or not."

"Thank you, Dr. Fenway," my dad says as we get up to leave. "We'll go home and make a decision."

"Of course," she smilies. "And Emilie?"

"Yeah?" I manage to sputter through my shock.

"Congratulations. What show is it?"

"Downton Abbey," I say in a near whisper.

"Well, if you do go, I may just have to start watching."

"Thank you," I mutter and then we're off.

We're in the car on our way to lunch at a sandwich shop near our house when my phone buzzes. It's from Liz.

_Hey stepmom, what happened to you and GOT at rehearsal yesterday? You just disappeared... Is everything ok?_

Shoot. I forgot to tell Liz about Julian's offer. We spent the rest of rehearsal talking about the part, meaning I hadn't talked to Liz since before we started yesterday.

_He wanted to talk about... Stuff. Everything's fine._

I don't want to tell her about the part until it's for sure going to happen.

_What kind of stuff? This is Julian Fellowes we're talking about. And I am your best friend, am I not?_

I hate it when she plays the best friend card.

_You have to promise not to tell anyone._

_Have I ever told anyone you didn't want me to tell before?_

_Yes._

_I didn't think Jess counted._

_Well, you can't tell Jess or anyone else about this one. Not another living soul must know. Swear on Sybil's grave._

_I swear on Sybil's grave that I will not tell another living soul what you're about to tell me. Tell me now?_

_Ok. I'll tell you... Um so, um... Mrs. G kind of said some really great things about my acting to Julian and then she told me to go out in the hall and talk to him. So I went. Turns out he was on a casting trip... Oh, and he reads my fanfic. And then he well, he sort of offered me... Well he offered me a part on Downton._

So much for not telling her.

_Um... HOLY CRAP EMILIE!_

_Yeah. It's not going to happen for sure, my parents still haven't made a decision. But the doctors cleared me for a move._

_Wow. I'm stunned. When will you know?_

_I don't know. I gotta go now, I'm at Milio's and you know how my mom is with phones at the table._

_Okey dokey, bye. Call me when you get home._

_Baii._

Later that night, I'm laying in my bed thinking about what I'll tell my fanfic readers if my parents decide I can do it. How do I tell them I've gotten a role on Downton, without them thinking I'm lying? How do I say stuff that will prove I'm telling the truth without spoiling the season or leaking information I'm not supposed to. I posted a chapter today without saying anything about it. I finally explained the title to them in my author's note, though. I guess I'll just have to say something like, _So last week I explained why this fic was titled Reaching Highclere. I said that if I got a role on Downton Abbey, it would be the peak of my acting career. So far my acting has only been in my school's plays, so I'm a little sad to think that I'm reaching my peak so early. Yes, I have indeed gotten a role on Downton. I'll be playing a new character that I'm not allowed to say anything about, other than that she is American. I know it may sound like I'm lying about this, but I'll keep you updated on my move to London. I know this is not really the peak, but all of my dreams have come true. Anyway, enough about me, enjoy the chapter._ I'm still thinking about what such wonderful bliss my life might be when I drift off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: So, this chapter is very long and dramatic, but I know you don't care really... There's not much to say about it really... Much thanks to MunchkinLovesYou for pushing me through the phone call scene. You should go check her out, she writes a rather epic Major Crimes fic called Family** **Affairs... (The fic I refer to with the same title in this chapter is a Downton fic...) Anyway, enjoy;)**

**-Della **

* * *

**3. Knives Through Butter**

So this is it. The week Julian gave my parents to decide is up. They haven't told me their decision yet, if they've made one like they said they have. I asked mom yesterday and she said they hadn't made a decision yet, but they weren't going to tell me until Julian came anyway. Meanwhile, I've had to keep coming up with threats for Liz to keep her from telling everyone. She wanted to tell everyone at lunch on Monday, but I told her that I wasn't planning on telling anyone, including her, until the part was certain, and the only reason I told her was because she guilted me into it. _Please?! _She had texted me before lunch on Monday. _No. Absolutely not. I'll seem like a liar if I say I'm going and then my parents decide I'm not. _Of course, none of my friends would think that of me, but other people in the school might not. It's better just to keep it under wraps until I am certain about moving/being in TV. I won't have to wait long, Julian and Mrs. Grindahl have just pulled into my driveway.

It was decided that Mrs. Grindahl would accompany Julian - let me rephrase that. Mrs. Grindahl decided that she would accompany Julian to act as a 'manager' and help my parents negotiate a contract. As a middle school theatre director, I can't imagine she knows much more about TV contracts than they do, but I'm glad to have her here. She is my favorite adult at school and if it weren't for her, all that's happened wouldn't have happened. If there's one thing I owe her, it's my gratitude.

Mrs. Grindahl and Julian are walking up the path to the front door now, and I decide to take Luke and myself into the living room. I don't want to seem too eager, so when the bell rings, I let my mom get it.

"Mr. Fellowes, Kelsey," my mom says in her awkward mom voice, "Lovely to see you again."

"Please, Mrs. Christianson, call me Julian," He says, shaking my mom's hand.

"Then you must call me Jeneen," she smiles, "Should we go into the living room and get started?"

"Sounds wonderful," Mrs. Grindahl says.

This is it. This is really, really it. Holy crap. What if my parents decided to keep me here? What if I don't go? Will I be able to move on? Will Julian be mad? Will he beg them to change their minds? What will Mrs. Grindahl say? Will she help Julian pick someone else from my theatre? Will Liz go in my place? Or Jess? It's all just a bunch of ifs and questions that I can't answer. My palms begin to sweat with nerves, and I hug Luke closer to me to calm down.

"Hi Emilie, how's life?" Mrs. G says when she enters the living room with my mom and Julian.

"Good, I guess," I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant about the situation.

"I'll go get Paul," my mom says, "Please, have a seat."

Julian sits down in my dad's armchair, while Mrs. G takes a seat on the couch.

"Emilie," he begins, "I loved the last chapter of RH, especially the author's note."

"I'm glad you liked it, I had a hard time posting it because I was worried you wouldn't like it," honesty is the best policy.

"Oh, please, don't worry about my thoughts,"

"What's RH?" Mrs. G pipes up.

"Her Downton fanfiction."

"I see. I may have to read it, would you email me the link?"

"Of course," I nod.

"It's actually quite successful, one of the website's best."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," if honesty is the best policy, then modesty is it's best friend.

"It won quite a few Highclere awards," he insists.

"Ok, fine. It's one of the best. I hope you don't mind, but my friend Liz wanted me to ask you if you've read hers, Family Affairs?"

"I have, it's also very successful, I enjoy it."

"She'll love to hear that,"

"You must tell her not to worry about my reactions when posting."

"It's a promise," I grin. It amazes me how easy Julian is to talk to. He is the _god of television_, and I'm talking to him like he's just some random kid at school.

"Welcome to our home," my dad says, coming back with my mom.

"Thank you for having us," Mrs. G says.

"Shall we begin?" Julian shifts in his chair. "I'm not one for pre-business small talk."

"Then you're my kind of business man, Julian." My dad takes a seat in the other arm chair while my mom joins Mrs. G on the couch.

"I hope you've made a decision..." Julian prompts.

"We have," mom begins.

"We decided that..." In the slight pause in my dad's sentence, a million thoughts rush through my head. A tidal wave of thoughts really. A tsunami of emotion. Waves of fear that their decision isn't what I hoped slap against the shores of my mind in a torrential storm. I feel like a small rowboat lost in the storm of fear and anxiety, my mind rocking with the unsteady motion of the waves... Turning me queasy. Oh god, I think I may faint.

And then he's saying it. The words I longed so badly to hear are pouring from his lips, "Emilie- _we_ - will take you up on your offer." Never before have I heard words so wonderful. They are to my ears what Luke is to my soul. Six simple words are the words to make all of my dreams come true. In my mind I sound as if I were speaking of love and romance, not the acceptance of a part on a television show.

I know now that Downton is not, _could not_ possibly be the pinnacle of my acting career. No, Downton is the _start_ to my acting career. If I do a good job there (and there's no doubt that I will, my hunger to please Julian so great), I will have made a name for myself. I will be able to audition for other things with that on my résumé. And starting so young, I will be around in the acting world for a long, long time. Or so I hope.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Julian's voice is genuine. It's not until then that I let my smile grow to a grin so huge it nearly splits my face. I only let the grin last for a moment however. There will be time to celebrate later, away from Julian and Mrs. G's eyes. I do not want them to know how positively on top of the world I am. I don't want to seem childish. Julian has just given me a job, and it is important to appear mature. I'll thank my parents later, too. I'll let them know how perfectly happy I am, and how genuinely thankful. Luke looks at me as though he can sense my happiness, even though the grin has faded to a slight smile. He smiles up at me and I'm struck at how much he looks like my dad, when my dad still had hair.

"I hope I do not put you off when I make yet another offer," he continues. "But we also are in need of a baby, precisely the age of Luke, for the first three episodes of the series."

"Mary and Matthew's son?" I ask.

"George," Julian supplies.

"Why only the first three?" My mom wonders aloud, more to herself than Julian.

"Quite a bit of time passes in the Downton world between each episode. This is fine for the older characters, as people of their age grow older and change in appearance much slower. But for a baby, the infant actor or actress can not age quickly enough to keep up with the pace of shooting. That and child labor laws."

"I see," mom nods, "so Luke would be in the first three episodes, and then be replaced by a slightly older child?"

"Precisely. And even then, only a few scenes."

"What do you think, Paul?"

"Why not?" Dad shrugs. "Emilie's already becoming a child actor, why shouldn't he?"

"Yeah, why not," mom agrees.

"Did you hear that Luke? You're gonna be on Downton with me," I look down at him, but he's drifted off to sleep. Apparently a morning of doing absolutely nothing wore him out.

"So, in the business of contracts," Julian says, "Luke will have a three episode one, and Emilie a three series one. Is that agreeable?"

"Yep," mom says. Julian told them when he first made the offer that he meant to make me a lead character, meaning the standard three year contract. The rest of the meeting is rather uneventful, my parents negotiating a contract with Julian and Mrs. G giving the occasional input. Luke sits in my lap, dreaming of whatever it is one year olds dream of, and I sit there, listening to the proceedings with the utmost interest. I've never realized how much needs to be specified in a contract.

It is nearing six o'clock and the end of the meeting when the topic of conversation turns to scheduling. "Like I said at our last meeting, we'd like Emilie to start with an accent coach on March 16th, and then begin rehearsals and shooting on March 26th," Julian says.

"Wait, March 16th..." The date seems important for some reason. "Isn't that the date if our first dress rehearsal, Mrs. G?"

"Yes, it is." She says. "I don't want you to worry about that though, I was planning on having Lori move up to your part."

"Are you sure?" I didn't even think about the show and that I might have to leave it. I don't want to leave it.

"Emilie, really," she assures me. "Don't worry about it. The goal of our theatre is to help our actors grow in their skill. If a better opportunity comes along three weeks before the show, we are not the ones to hold them back. Go to London for us, tell people that you grew up in Raider Theatre, and be proud to represent us."

"I will," I promise, "Everyone will know about the greatness of Raider Theatre." I mean it. The people there have been my family since sixth grade. When I was diagnosed, Mrs. G was the first person (aside from my actual family) to know. Halfway through rehearsals for my first show there, I barely knew anyone, but when Mrs. G announced it, _everyone_ cared. It felt so great to know that I had such a large support group. Raider Theatre is what got me through those endless months of treatment and illness.

"Is March 16th ok for you?" Julian asks my parents.

"It's fine," my mom says, though I know she's already counted the days in her head. Exactly 3 weeks from today.

"Alright, that's all we have to go over. I'll send this," he gestures to his laptop screen, "to my lawyer and have the formal contract drawn up. I'll give you a call when I get it back from him, and then you could drop by Emilie's school to sign it... Or I could bring it here. Signatures from both of you and Emilie are required."

"We'll drop by the school," my dad says. "We pick her up from school anyway."

"Wonderful," he looks at his watch, "I'm afraid we must be going, we have dinner plans with the Grindahls."

"Well we mustn't make you late," my mom says, standing along with everyone else.

"Bye Emilie," Mrs. G says as she passes me on her way out, "I'll see you on Monday."

"And I'll see you once the contract is ready," Julian says.

"Goodbye," I don't trust myself to say anymore without gushing.

My mom and dad lead them out, and I carry a still sleeping Luke upstairs (Carl stays on the ground floor) to his bedroom. Dinner won't be until seven, so I take advantage of the extra time to go to my room and call Liz...

"Ello, this is Elizabeth speaking," she answers in a fake british accent, knowing it's me, due to caller I.D.

"Hey Liz," I try to keep my voice monotone.

"What's up? I feel like there's something important you said you were going to call me about... Oh yeah! How'd your meetinging with Julian go?" She replaces the accent with pretending to forget.

"Guess," I say, continuing the monotony.

"Well let's see... You said he was coming over at 3... And it's 6 now... You're obviously calling me directly afterward, which means he was there for nearly three hours... Which means your parents must have accepted, because who would spend three hours at someone's house after being rejected?"

"Julian Fellowes would," I attempt sadness but fail miserably.

"What? Your parents rejected?!"

"No..." I pause. "I'm going."

"Wait- so you are?! Holy crap Emilie!"

"You said that when I texted you a week ago," I'm smiling now.

"I can't believe it!" And suddenly, her voice no longer holds the same surprise and excitement it did just a moment ago. "I really cannot believe it."

"What's not to believe? You know I'm not lying, you saw him at rehearsal." I laugh slightly while saying it, not knowing what's gotten into her.

"Yeah, I did. I saw him watch _our_ rehearsal, Emilie. I saw him watch not just you, but Jess, and Emmy, and Marissa, and Lori, and Jill, and Max, and Jackson, and _me_. He watched everyone who was on stage. Not just you. So why then, did he pick you?" The change in her tone is instantaneous, like the flick of a light switch.

"He asked Mrs. G... I guess it's really her who picked me," my smile falls away.

"Then why would Mrs. G pick you? She's worked with all of the eighth graders who were at that rehearsal for _three years_. She can easily tell you who the most talented is, but there's no need to ask her. Instead, you can just look at the number of lead roles any one person has had. The person with the most is the most talented. How many leads have you had?"

"One," I whisper.

"Sorry, didn't catch that, say it louder," I know she heard me.

"One," I say again, choking on the word.

"And how many leads has Emmy had?"

"Three,"

"What about Marissa and Jess and Jill?"

"All four,"

"Lori?"

"Also four."

"How many lead roles have I had, Emilie?"

"Nine," I choke again.

"Which means?"

"You've had a lead role in every single show since we were 12."

"That's right. In every sing Raider Theatre show since we were _twelve_, I've had a lead role. Not always _the_ lead, but never a supporting or ensemble role. _Never_. Not once. The most talented in this theatre is _me_, not Jess, not Lori, Marissa, or Jill, or Emmy. Not even you. Please explain to me again why Mrs. Grindahl chose you as the one Julian should talk to, instead of me."

"Because I don't turn into a total brat when something doesn't go my way," I retort fast, too quick to choose my words carefully. In some strange way, I feel as though I've crossed the line. But no, she deserves that one blow. She deserves much more than that. "Every time you don't get what you want, Elizabeth, you find someone else to blame. Nothing is _ever_ your fault. When you don't get the part you want, it's not because you had a bad audition, or because who did get it is better, it's because Mrs. Grindahl obviously didn't realize how you are much more talented and better suited. You always get so mad when things don't go the way you planned. When what you want is given to someone else, you get _jealous_. You know what I do when something doesn't go my way? I suck it up and deal with it like a mature person."

"I am not a brat. And I deal with much more than you know," my outburst has freaked her out, I can tell.

"Oh, I think I know all that you deal with Liz. I know about your insomnia. I know about your knee. I know about your mom's constant fighting with your dad, and also about her fights with your brother. I know every single dirty secret you have. I am the _only_ person who knows that perfect Liz who has a perfect life isn't as perfect as she seems. Do you know why I know? Because _you_ told me. You've called me in the middle of the night crying because your brother ran away again. And what did I do? I got dressed and got my mom to take the two of us looking for him because your mom was crying too hard to drive. Do you know what I did these past two years when I woke up in the middle of the night with cancer pain? I popped a couple of pain pills and let you sleep, because I didn't want to wake you up. I care about you, Liz, I really do... But I have been taking your crap for far too long, and you know what? I'm finally done." It's too bad there's no way to angrily push the 'end' button on an iPhone screen, because that's when I hang up. I drop my phone on the floor and fall forward onto my bed in defeat. I've never fought with Liz before. Sure, we've had the occasional argument, but never a _fight_. Her words sliced through my skin like knives through butter, easily, much too easily. The wounds will heal with time, but not without leaving scars. I hope I've left scars on her, too. She needs to know how I feel.

**Author's Note Again: Im sorry for the slight cliff hanger, but reviews will help motivate me to post the next chapter soon...**


	4. Chapter 4

**4. That He Is**

"Whach'ya thinkin' 'bout, hun?" my mom glances at me before returning her eyes to the road.

I sigh and look out my window at the damp and foggy Minnesota surroundings. What am I thinking about? Liz. I'm thinking about Liz and our fight on Saturday. I'm continuously going over it in my head, what I could have said differently, what she could have said differently. How I'm going to act when I see her today. "Oh nothing..." I say passively. I didn't tell her about the phone call.

"Em, you may be an amazing actress, but I'm your mom. I can tell when something's up."

"Fine, you got me," I lie. "I'm worried about telling them."

"I'm assuming by 'them', you mean your friends." She glances at me again, and I nod. "Then there's nothing to worry about. Your friends are good kids, they'll be happy for you. There will undoubtedly be some sadness that you're leaving for a while, but they'll be mostly happy."

"Promise?" I pretend to believe her, because she doesn't know how wrong she is.

"Promise," we ride the rest of the way to my school in silence.

"Thanks for the ride, Mom," I say as I pull Carl out of the backseat of her minivan.

"It's not like you can get to school another way," she gets out to help me get situated in Carl. "I'm essential."

"Oh yes, we're all essential," I say under my breath, quoting O'Brien.

"Remember, March 12th is your last day."

"Okay. See you after rehearsal," I start to wheel away, "Love you."

"Love you," she says from behind me.

* * *

Now that the distraction of getting out of the car is gone, my nerves creep back up on me. What do I say to Liz when I see her? She's impossible to avoid, we have the same homeroom. Will I be the first one to apologize? I don't want to be. I'm always the first one, even if our disagreement is over something stupid. No, it's definitely Liz's turn. But what if she doesn't apologize today? What if she keeps waiting for me to say sorry first and then we don't make up before I leave? Will I lose her forever? I can't. If she doesn't apologize today, then I will tomorrow.

She's sitting on my desk when I get to homeroom. Oh god. I don't want to face her, but there's no choice. "Liz," I nod cordially, sliding Carl into place underneath the desk.

"Listen, Em," she slides off the desk to stand, "I'm really sorry about Saturday night. I've been feeling awful all weekend."

Yay yay yay! She went first! But she's not getting off that easy. "Yeah, I've been feeling pretty awful myself."

"I had absolutely no right to say what I said."

"I'm sorry, too. But you have every right to be jealous."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do. You wouldn't if this was a part in a play we were talking about, but we're talking about _Downton Abbey_. It's a big deal.

"Ok, ok, you're right. Friends?"

"Best friends," I smile and she bends over to hug me. As she does so, music comes on over the loudspeaker to play for the final minute of passing time. It's a different song every week, so neither of us are expecting _The BFF Song_.

_We don't always like the same things,_

_Take ice cream,_

_We like different flavors_.

_And we don't always see eye to eye,_

_But that's you and I,_

_It doesn't matter._

_You are my best friend forever,_

_And we will never let that end,_

_No never._

_You are here for me,_

_And I am here for you,_

_Cause that's what best friends do._

A chipmunk voice trills over a happy-go-lucky piano, sending Liz and I into a fit of laughter. The song is undeniably lame, but the coincidence is hilarious. We're still giggling wildly when the song ends and our homeroom teacher calls the class to attention.

* * *

"What?!" "When?!" "Where?!" "Forever?!" My friends all shout at once when I tell them I'm moving.

"Relax, relax," I wave my hands to silence our half of the lunch table. "It's not forever. March 12th is my last day, but I come back at the end of June. Then next year, and the year after, I leave over Christmas break and come back the end of June."

"Why is it only part of the time?" Brinn questions from Liz's left.

"Ok, that was the bitter part of my bittersweet announcement. The sweet part is that I'm going to be on Downton Abbey. For at least 3 seasons."

"For serious?" Katie, who's across from Brinn asks.

"Yeah, no lie," I'm addressing the entire group from my spot at the head of the table in Carl. I think this is the first time ever that we've had only one conversation at once. "Downton Abbey. The creator-slash-writer-slash-who-knows-what-else is friends with Mrs. Grindahl. He's been on a casting trip and stopped by to watch one of our rehearsals two Fridays ago. He offered me a part, this past Saturday he drew up a contract with my parents, and we sign tomorrow."

"Wait, two Fridays ago..." Melanie starts from down at the end, "You've known about this for two weeks and didn't say anything?!"

"I didn't want to say anything if it wasn't going to happen."

"When you shushed us, I thought it was about cancer," Brinn sighs, the relief evident in her voice. I smile at her and the concern on her face. Brinn was my biggest supporter throughout all of my osteosarcoma stuff. I cut my hair really short when I started losing it (Mental Note: Thank chemo for that), and she cut hers and donated it. That was a melancholy day. Her hair had been stick straight and reached her lower back; she cried as it was cut. She says she will never regret it, because the dark brown pixie cut she still wears today was meant for her.

"Look on the bright side of this, guys..." I attempt to cheer their sullen expressions, "I'm missing a few months, but I'll be back for all of our summer plans, and we all have facebooks, twitters, instagrams, etcetera. Keeping touch will be easy, and it's not the witness protection program."

"Yeah, I guess that's good," Brinn says.

"Exactly. Though I am going to miss some major eighth grade stuff... Such as the spring play, the dance, graduation, the field trip to Valley Fair, and MCA testing."

"No fair," Liz pouts, "I hate testing!"

"Don't we all?" I laugh.

* * *

I sink into the plush couch, wanting to disappear. I'm hidden by a big piece of the set, which is near the back, meaning not many people know this couch is here. That's a good thing, because rehearsal isn't even half over, and I'm drained. Mrs. Grindahl explained my leaving before we started, but I've since had exactly 17 people come up to me and ask for more information. That, and I had to teach Lori the blocking for her knew part of Vanessa in only ten minutes (if that was a tweet, I believe the appropriate hashtag would be _#firstworldproblems_). Yes, these stolen moments of solitude on the couch are a blessing today. At least they were, until Jack discovers me. "What is it?" I say gruffly, not wanting to explain to yet another person.

"Um, wow, you're in a bad mood," he takes a step back, "I was just going to ask if I could sit with you."

"Yeah, go ahead. I'm sorry, I'm just tired of explaining to everyone," I relax and lean my head back as he sits down on my left.

****"Yeah, I bet," he sympathizes briefly, but then mimics my head with his and lets me return to my silence. We stay like this for a few minutes, but when it's almost time for him to go on stage, he scoots a little closer. "I'm really gonna miss you, but I'm super excited to watch you on Downton. I'm sure you'll be amazing," then he leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, close to my mouth, before rising and going off to be the talented and adorable person that he is.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Ok, I know that was a bit shorter then the other chapters, but I updated thanks to the constant pressure from MunchkinLovesYou. A note specially for readers familiar with the real-life Raider Theatre... JACK IS NOT BASED ON A REAL PERSON! He is purely a figment of my imagination because I thought I'd try my hand at a bit of romance. Special thanks to ****_arianagleek _****for that last little nudge that got this chapter posted, and to the guest reviewer who said the Dowager Countess would be proud of the phone call between Liz and Emilie for making me laugh. Ok, I'm done. I may update soon, it really depends on your response to this chapter. Secret Nugget for you, I'm planning an entire chapter from Liz's POV, but it'll be chapter 7 or 8.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: A bit of a shorter chapter for you today, but I was in a bit of a press for time. Why? Because today (April 10th) is MunchkinLovesYou's birthday! So if you all would be dears, please go write a review wishing her a happy birthday, or pm her... Please? The Dowager Countess will give magical cookies to anyone who does! Anyway, I promised her this chapter, so here it is! Enjoy:)**

**5. Disney's Not The Place**

The first tear slides right over the spot where Jack kissed me, just as the plane is taking off. I turn to my right and watch the receding Minneapolis skyline, more tears following the first. What a whirlwind these past few weeks have been. They seem to have passed in the blink of an eye, and yet the day I officially announced my news seems like a lifetime ago. It's amazing how obvious it is that time isn't just a straight line, instead just a mess of wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey shtuff; yet we don't question how days pass quickly while seconds go in slow motion. My mom reaches over Luke's seat in between us and grabs my hand. I give her a small smile to say that I'm ok. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited beyond belief about the current situation, but I've never been far from home.

I had to say goodbye to too many people, too. My dad is still in Minnesota working, but he'll be joining us at the end of March. He works at home, but the occasional conference keeps him tied to his location. There were a lot of tears shed when I said my farewells (multiple times, I might add) to all of my friends, cast members, church friends, teachers (not any crying with that one), but especially saying farewell to Liz and Jack. Liz is undoubtedly my best friend, we've been together through thick and thin (more like thin and thin), and come out with a bond stronger than sisters. And Jack, well Jack, is as close to a boyfriend I'll ever get with my messed up life.

I can no longer see the city, so I shut the window shade and lean back to sleep away the remaining eight hours until I reach London.

"Emilie," my mom whispers, gently shaking my shoulder, "look out your window, the pilot just said we should be able to see London now."

"Huh?" I sit up groggily, stretching my arms and pulling the shade up. ~wow~. I'm instantly pulled from my sleepy state by the sight that greets my eyes. We're not very low over the city, but close enough for me to pick out a few landmarks I'd only ever dreamt of seeing until a few weeks ago. There's the Thames, and my eyes follow along it until I find the Eye and Big Ben. Wow, wow, ~wow~!

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, "local time is 6 o' clock pm, and the temperature is about 48 degrees Fahrenheit, and 9 degrees Celsius. We will be landing in about 10 minutes. Thank you for choosing Delta Airlines, we hope you fly with us again."

_hey soul sista, ain't that mista mista on the radio? _I message Liz on kik as soon as we're able to use our phones.

_hey. You there ye_t? She replies almost immediately.

_Yeah, just landed:) what class are you in right now_? It's only noon there.

_Lunch. So what's the city like?_

_Amazing! Be careful of Ms. Val, she'll take your phone._

_Child, I know that! I'll text you in choir._

_Ok! Baii:)_

_Baii_

Leaving the plane and airport are a blur. The next thing I know, we're in a taxi navigating through the streets of London to the flat Julian helped us get a hold of. By the time we get there, it's 8 o'clock, and we're starving. We basically dump our bags inside the door before leaving to go to a small diner on the corner of our street. The food is great and Luke makes a mess of his fish and chips, but when we get back to the flat, he's the only one of us who's tired. My mom sets up a mobile crib in his room for him, and then I help her start unpacking.

The flat is small compared to what I'm used to, but I love it regardless. It has three bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen, and living room (which has the most wonderful window seat I've ever seen). We unpack our small amount of kitchen stuff (we shipped a lot of things from the U.S. and had them delivered to the flat), and then start on painting my bedroom pale purple with some paint we bought on our way back from dinner, before the clock reads 4 am and mom decides it's time for bed. I make a bed of blankets with her in her room, and lie down.

My mom uncomprehensively falls asleep right away, while I have a much harder time. Listening to her deep and even breathing helps me to drift off, thinking of the stares I got in the airport due to Carl, and then the fact that I'm in_ London, England_. I sigh with contempt. Disney is not the place to make all of your dreams come true, England is.

**More Author's Note: I apologize in advance for inaccuracies involving London and England, but I'm an uncultured fourteen year old fangirl. Also, did you whovians out there like the Doctor Who reference? And did you Anna/Bates fans catthe my favorite quote of their ship? Double cookies to you if you got them and wished MunchkinLovesYou happy birthday!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hey, long time no update! Pretty sure I stole that line from MunchkinLovesYou... Anyway, here you have it, the next chapter! There's not really much to say about it, other than: I don't own the address I put as Julian's email, so please don't email it. Thanks. I would say that I'll be updating more often now that my show is nearly over, but I can't make any promises. I really don't know how I found time to write this chapter, what with opening night of my show tonight, and preparing for the state History Day competition...**

**I think every sentence in that note were stars I could not fathom into constellations...**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter and please review!**

**UPDATE- I changed some stuff near the end, because I realized that Mary McDonnell and Aaron Tviet weren't the correct ages for them to be playing Eliza and Harold, so just skip down to the end to see the new folks:)**

* * *

**6. Fail Him**

The London drizzle flecks my glasses as I stare across the street at the small office building. This is it. This is really, really it. I know I keep telling myself this is the moment, but all that's happened to me since that fateful rehearsal is just so surreal. Nevermind the fact that I've been living in London for the past 2 days, today is the first day of the rest of my future. Today, I officially start my work with Downton. I really should just stop defining _the moment_, because _the moment_ keeps happening. A gust of wind rips down the street, sending a chill down my spine and causing me to hug Luke closer.

"Ready?" mom asks, tugging me from my nervous stupor.

"Yeah, I guess," I say. The street is empty, save a few cars parked along the side. We're well off the beaten path. Mom pushes us across the street and I begin to freak out more than I already am. I fidget endlessly with them hem of my army green jacket, worrying that I'm dressed to casual, having paired it with a loose white v-neck tee, dark blue skinny jeans, and gray high-tops. Examining my reflection in the mirrored interior of the elevator, the _lift_, I tighten my ponytail and pinch my cheeks so the black frames of my glasses don't stand out so starkly against my face - paper white due to the nerves.

"Nervous?" mom smirks at me.

"Beyond belief," I gush as the eleva- _lift_ doors slide open. Mom steps through, and I wheel myself out behind her. There's a desk with a receptionist directly to our left, and then a wide corridor lined on either side with doors stretching far behind her.

"How may I help you?" the receptionist drones, glancing down at Carl with an air of distaste.

"We have an appointment with Katy Crawley," mom states.

"Last door on the left," she jerks her thumb over her shoulder before going back to painting her nails. Mom and I walk down the hall (well, Mom walks) and reach the door. She knocks thrice, and nerves threaten to bubble up and out through my throat.

And then, there she is. Katy Crawley, my accent coach. I can see now that I had no need to be nervous about my appearance, for Katy herself is dressed in extremely ripped black skinny jeans, and a Rolling Stones t-shirt. "You must be Emilie," she says happily, "Please, come in, come in," she ushers us into the cluttered office, shaking all of our hands, even Luke's.

"You have their name," I say once my mom is seated on a small couch, and Katy on a rolling desk chair.

"Indeed I do. Of course, Julian didn't bother to tell me," she laughed, "I didn't find out until I was working with Joanne and saw it in the script. But that's just Julian being Julian."

"Joanne as in..." I guess I hadn't really thought about meeting Joanne and Michelle or all of my other heros at all. I had just thought about _being_ on Downton.

"Yes, Joanne as in," she hadn't stopped smiling since we'd arrived. "Ready to get started?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wonderful," she gives a great kick of her legs, sending her rolling backwards across the room, hitting a desk with a loud thump. She quickly grabs a few papers off the desk before rolling back over to us, this time with a bit more control. I only just met her five minutes ago, and I already like her. "These are your first two scenes, Julian just sent them to me," Katy hands me a small packet of papers, probably about ten pages thick.

"Wow," is all I can say.

"Why don't we read through them? Don't think about how you sound at all, just read through it like you're doing your first read through for a play,"

I open the packet to find that my lines have already been highlighted. The first scene is set in a car, driving to Downton, and my character is with her father, mother, and is that? Yes, her grandmother, the ever fabulous Shirley MacLaine. "Go ahead, whenever you're ready," Katy prompts, and I realize that I've got the first line of the scene.

"Remind me again why this dreadful trip was necessary?" Wow wow wow. Wow.

"Because I haven't seen my sister in quite a while, and she's had to deal with a lot lately," Katy puts on a very manly American accent, making me giggle slightly. "We've been over this, and I thought we agreed that you wouldn't complain or call this place dreadful."

"Oh don't be so hard on her, Harold," this time Katy's voice is an almost perfect imitation of Shirley's. "England really is very dreadful."

"I'd thank you not to interfere with my parenting, Mama," Katy-Harold says. She sounds a bit schizophrenic saying all of these lines, but it's very amusing.

"Oh, stop it, you two," I say.

"Don't interrupt your grandmother, and I, Josephine." Josephine? Had I really not bothered to look at the name next to all of my lines? I look now, and there it is, right before every highlighted bit. So that's me then, Josephine Levinson.

"Harold," Katy-Martha says.

"What?" Katy-Harold.

"Mother," I half-whine, as directed by the script.

"I know, darling," Now Katy has a woman's southern American accent. Hmmm. I wonder who will be playing Harold and Eliza. The scene ends there, but Katy plows right on into the next, in which I only have two lines. Those lines are, "Hello, how wonderful to meet you at last," and "Tea? How English." Both are scripted to be said in complaint and sarcasm. I'm kind of really in love with how much my character appears to hate England, especially because I love it so much. That, and being a moody teenager is also really enjoyable. "That was pretty good!" Katy exclaims back in her regular voice. "You don't have much of a Minnesotan twang to your voice, although we do need to add just a touch of New York in there..." We then spend the next hour and a half going through my five lines adjusting how I sound when I say them. It is actually really helpful and instructive. I'm supposed to be meeting with her everyday for the rest of the week, excluding tomorrow, as it's Sunday, each time getting a new scene from episode one. I honestly can't wait.

* * *

"Well, what do you want to do now?" Mom asks once we've bid Katy goodbye and are back out on the street below. "It's only noon... and I want a break from unpacking." Other than small outings to get food and once to buy furniture, we've been stuck inside our flat painting and getting moved in for two days straight.

"Can we get lunch and then take a ride on The Eye?" I ask.

"But of course," she bows and sticks her arm out, ushering me down the sidewalk in front of her, before stepping behind me to push Luke and I. Speaking of Luke, he slept through the entire accent section. It really is astonishing how much he sleeps. "Where should we go?"

"You're weird," I say over my shoulder. "How about somewhere near the Eye?"

"Brilliant,"

* * *

I sigh, flopping out of Carl and onto my bed. We've just returned from our ride on the Eye, which was the most amazing thing I've ever done. Lunch was pretty great, too, but it was kind of overpowered by the view. The view out of my bedroom window is actually quite similar, but maybe more stunning because I can also see the Eye in it, despite being a mile away. Smiling to myself, I reach over to my bedside table and grab my laptop. It was from the top of our little adventure that I had realized it's Saturday today, meaning Reaching Highclere day. I had updated since everything was finalized with Julian and such, but those had been crap chapters written in 15 minutes. It's time for my readers to get a proper update and an explanation, since the last few chapters lacked author's notes.

When I fire up the laptop, a notification pops up on my screen right away, informing me I have a new email from Julian. I wonder what he's emailing about? Probably just the session with Katy. Or not...

_From: Julian Fellowes  
Date: March 16, 2013  
Time: 11:00 am_

_Subject: Downton_

_Message:_

_Emilie_, _this was just finalized and I thought you'd like to see it. The same has been sent to all cast members, but I do ask that you not send to any others, as your joining the cast has yet to be announced._

_-JF_

Attached is a video. I open it, and immediately the familiar and wonderful sounds of the Downton Abbey theme fill my ears. I don't realize why he sent it to me until there, right after Laura Carmichael, is _Emilie_ _Christianson_. Oh. That's why. I'm stunned. It finally crosses my mind to pause the video and go back a bit to my name so I can get a picture of it. Then, once I've done that, I hit play again to scrutinize every name to see who's new. There are four, besides me. Aaron Tviet, Mary McDonnell, Dana Delaney, and Russell Crowe. Wow, Downton's really gone big, everyone so famous. And then there's me, lowly Minnesotan in a frakking wheelchair. How will everyone react to me? All of these people are so experienced, so professional, and I've only ever been in a school play. How in the world did Julian just _know_ that I was right for the part? _What if I fail him?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: HEERRROO! Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I could give some really lame excuse, but that wouldn't be very kind... So all I can offer are my apologies. This chapter kind of ends on a cliffhanger, but don't hate me! Sooo... Enjoy:) and stick around for the note at the end, I have exciting news! Oh, and the title of this chapter doesn't mean much, I just thought it'd be a good one:)**

**Mystery Up The Steps**

"What do you mean she's never done television before?" I recognized her voice in a heartbeat, the hand I had raised to knock freezing an inch away from the aluminum door labeled _Office Trailer_.

"I didn't say she's never done television, I said she'd never been in any major production," oh god, oh god, oh god, I really shouldn't be listening to this.

"So she has done television?"

"Erm... No, no she hasn't."

"You mean to tell me that you hired a _rookie actress_?!"

"Well, I wouldn't say rookie, exactly, but not 100% immersed on the acting world," poor Julian, "But it's not like that, she's talented, she really is,"

"I don't care about that, I care that Downton is becoming a world-renowned show," She lowered her voice, but not enough to keep me from hearing, "I care about the fact that if she's not great, which is undoubtedly going to happen, I, and the rest of us, will look bad and Downton will lose it's credibility."

"It's not-"

"Let me paint you a little picture, Julian," she cut him off, "Three years from now, Downton will be wrapping up the filming of it's sixth series, but that won't be as wonderful as it sounds. All the past three years, we've been losing viewer after viewer, thousands and thousands of dollars in funding. People will have left, you'll only have one actress and maybe a few crew members remaining, because the show just isn't popular anymore. Do you know why the show will become so unpopular Julian? Do you know who that one remaining actress will be? That one actress will be this_ Emilie Christianson_, and the show will have become so unloved because you decided to take a gamble on some nobody from Minnesota!"

I decided now was the time to knock, to save Julian from her wrath. So I knock, and Julian comes to the door, "Emilie, how wonderful to see you," he smiles, no indication of what had been happening, "I take it you got my message to meet me here?"

"You are correct," I smile as well, not wanting him to know what I had overheard.

"Come in, I have someone for you to meet," he ushers me in, and I stand up out of Carl to follow him up the aluminium steps and into the trailer. The interior was different than my personal trailer, while mine had a bedroom in the back and one in the front, this one was completely open. Mine had a couch, chair, and table; this one had two desks and a table with four chairs and two laptops on it. My eyes travelled around the room swiftly, finally landing on her. Michelle Dockery, my hero up until just a moment ago, stands leaning against the window by the table, her long brown hair falling softly over her navy hoodie. I watch in silence as she arches her eyebrow slyly at Julian, before pushing herself up and travelling the few steps it takes her to cross the trailer to me more gracefully than I knew humanly possible. _I sound as if I'm in love_, I remark internally, kicking myself for all of her undeniable amazingness, _and after all that, you're still awed by her presence. How utterly stupid and fangirly of you, Emilie._

"Pleasure to meet you Emilie," she sticks out a hand which I take in my own, somehow managing to not grimace or fan-die at our contact. This is the long-awaited meeting of my favorite actress, but she is obviously not so keen about me (an understatement, really), therefore making me like her less, "I'm Michelle."

"Nice to meet you, too," I smile sweetly. I never really thought I'd be the kind of person to get on easily and have normal conversations with celebrities, but apparently I am.

"Emilie, I thought it might be helpful for you to talk a bit with Michelle tonight on how a television set works; she can be a sort of mentor for you until you get the hang of things here," Julian places an almost fatherly hand on my shoulder. Normally I would be thrilled about having her mentor me, but now I'm not so sure.

"What?!" She breaks her façade for a second, before realizing what she's done, "I mean, splendid," she amends quickly.

"Yes, I thought you would think so," he smiles smugly at her. "Why don't the two of you take a bit to get to know each other now?"

"May I have a word with you outside first, Julian?" 'Awkward moment' doesn't come close to describing the way she says it.

"Of course, but I've got to go speak to Gareth, so we must make it quick. Emilie, why don't you have a seat, and I'll see you tomorrow," he turned to leave.

"Um, Mr. Fellowes?" I took a half step forward, "What time?"

"Let's say, 6? It must seem horribly early for you, but we've got to get you through some stuff in time for everyone else to start at 7. Michelle will give you a tour tonight," he nods briefly before starting towards the door.

"Ok, thanks," I go and sit down while he talks with Michelle. They walk away now, so I can't overhear them. It's probably about 15 minutes before she comes back and sits across from me with a bit of a heavy sigh.

"Alright," she begins, "You probably already know about me, but I don't know anything about you. Tell me about your acting experience, when did you start acting, and what have your past roles and shows been? I want a timeline."

"Uh, I started in kindergarten when a theatre company came to town... I was Bird 1 in _Hansel & Gretel_, then the next year, I was Caterpillar part 5 in _Alice in Wonderland_, then Bat 1 in _Snow White_, and then Townsboy 1 in _The Pied Piper_. Then we moved and I stopped acting for 2 years, which was really horrible," she smilies slightly at this, "Then I was Leah in _2010_, _A Space Calamity_, Charlotte in _Flapper_, Athena, a smaller role than it sounds, in _Circus Olympus_, Staff 2 in _Northwoods Nonsense_, Backupsinger 3, a bigger role than it sounds, in _The Nifty Fifties_, Desk Clerk 3 in _Hotel_ _Escargot_, Danica in _Once Upon A High School_, my first and only lead role, and then Mabel in_ Kokonut Kapers_," I finish with a heavy huff of breath, worn out from telling all 11 years of my acting.

"Well, you can't say you haven't acted much," she smirks, although I think she's warming up to me, "You've done many more productions than I had by the time I was your age, although I gather that they were smaller shows?"

"Yeah, they were smaller. My middle school doesn't have the budget to do big name theatre," I admit freely.

"Nothing wrong with that," she smiles again, "What about your audition for Julian? What was that like?"

"Well, I didn't really audition... He just came in to watch one of our rehearsals and then pulled me out into the hall to offer me the part," Michelle raises her eyebrow at this, "I went back and counted, and he only saw me perform 15 lines..." my voice trails off as I shy at the look she gives me, almost as if her eyes are saying _I'm sorry for what I said about you earlier, I was wrong, you really are a very sweet girl._ Or at least, I hope that's what she's trying to convey.

"Then you must be one hell of an actress," she jumps up from her seat, "Shall we go on a tour of the wonderful Highclere set, then?"

"Sure," I agree, before getting up as well, and following her out the door, before plopping down in Carl. Michelle's eyes gloss over for a moment, and I realize the look she was giving me in the trailer was because she saw my chair when she left with Julian, and felt badly about speaking that way about a handicapped girl. She pities me. I bristle at this new development of our 'relationship', as there is not one thing I hate more in the world than cancer pity. I'm over my cancer, I can manage on my own, and I don't need people giving me countless pity or guilt filled looks and glances all the damn time. I'm sick of it. Hopefully that'll all change with Downton, and people will see that I'm just as freaking capable as everyone else, but I'll still have to wait for people to see the show before that happens.

"Do you... Ah... Need me to push you?" She asks reluctantly, as if Carl might bite her hands off.

"No, I'm just fine wheeling myself," I reach down and flip up the brakes, "Go ahead and lead the way,"

"Alright. Julian's informed me that you'll receive a tour of Highclere tomorrow, but I'm to show you where everything else is," she starts off towards the trailer closest to this one, about 10 feet away. "This is hair and makeup..." And so begins our tour, she takes me through the huge grid of trailers, labeling each one and it's purpose, while also telling me which ones I'll actually ever go to. The tour finishes at her trailer, after we've walked quietly through the rest of the cast's area, since I'm not supposed to meet anyone until tomorrow. "Go on in," she says, unlocking the door with a plastic key card like the ones in hotels. "I've got to go grab something," she disappears around the corner of her trailer, her nude ballet flats squishing in the damp grass. I go inside, leaving Carl to the side of her door. Michelle's place is very similar to my own, although I can see now that Mom, Luke' and I have been allotted a larger, two bedroom model because of our need to be together whilst having our own space. This trailer is most likely what everyone else has, with a window seat and coffee table at the front, rather than a second bedroom.

I take a seat by the window now, appreciating the Michelle-ness of the room. I don't know her, but I can see the various personal touches that you couldn't find anywhere else on this entire (humongous) estate. Like the collage of photographs pasted onto the wall above the dining table, or the mis-matched bowls and cups stacked neatly on one side of the sink to dry. Even the maroon fabric that she's tucked in around the dull really weird standard trailer upholstery of the cushions nicely compliments the off-white walls and walnut woodwork, making the place feel much more homey and welcoming than my own brown on brown trailer. Her MacBook is sitting on the coffee table in front of me, and I lean forward to examine the bumper stickers that she's decorated it with. There's a black and white one, simply reading 'Essex'; a blue one advertising a pub in London, and one for the same pub in purple; a rainbow Apple logo; and the best one, a cartoon drawing of Highclere, reading Downton Abbey below. I have the last one on my own laptop. So at least I can comment on that without seeming like a creepy fangirl. There's voices outside now, and I realize that the 'thing' Michelle was grabbing is a person. I thought I wasn't supposed to meet anyone?

"Is that... hers?" The second voice says.

"Yeah, it is. I don't know why exactly yet, because she can walk, but yeah..." Michelle says uncomfortably, "She's really nice, though. And she's acted a lot, so we can hopefully count on her being good."

"Fingers crossed," I can't figure out who it is.

"Yeah. Do you wanna meet her?"

"I thought you said Julian told you no introductions?"

"You know you don't count, come on, I know she'll be happy to meet you," There's an electronic ding, and then the door opens. "Emilie?"

"Yeah?" I stand up and go back into the middle of the room.

"I brought someone to meet you," she says, stepping in. The mystery guest is off to the side, however, so I don't see who it is.

"Okay," I say with enthusiasm, although no one has stepped through the door yet.

Michelle turns around and sticks her head out the door, reaching down for the mystery's hand. "Oh come on, you. She's a new cast mate, not a piranha," She pulls Mystery up the steps, and I immeadiately recognize them by their long blonde hair. "Emilie, this is Joanne; Joanne, this is Emilie."

**Author's Note Part Deux: This exciting news is for Hunger Games fans! This summer, a few other authors and I will be hosting the ... *drumroll please* FIRST ANNUAL FANFICTION GAMES! So... Yeah. It'll basically be like a Hunger Games but with Hunger Games fanfic s and no Katniss/Peeta/Gale crap. So, stay tuned for more information, because I will be posting about it in another note sometime soon! So... Yeah... BYEEE!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Tea on a Hot Tin Roof**

**Author's Note: For today's note, I have a list of reasons why I'm a fail.  
1)I haven't updated in a very long time  
****  
2) So long, in fact, that I forgot the ending of the last chapter and was about to post this one when I thought I should go back and re-read to make sure the plot was running smoothly. Yep. Had to re-write the whole beginning and middle of this. But at least I didn't post it before realizing my mistake.**

3) I forgot how to spell the main character's name. Yes, the leasing lady of my own story, and I forgot how to spell her name, which is also _my_ name in French class. I actually spent 5 minutes writing down various spellings and trying to find the correct one. Of course the correct one was the one I ruled out immediately. Oh, Della.

** So anyway, HERE'S A CHAPTER FOR YOU! YAY! Also, more news on THE FICTION GAMES at the end of this chapter! I mention a 'Mortuary Science' degree****in the chapter... That's the degree Morticians get. Morticians are funeral directors. The part where I mention this is actually true, my real life mother is actually studying such... So, shoutout to my mom, because she's awesome and doesn't read this fic, which makes her slightly less awesome. She's also made less awesome by the fact that she loves my best friend MunchkinLovesYou more than me, and she doesn't drive a minivan. Mom, if you ever read this, I love you. *cud collective awww* Ok. I'm 99.999% done. ENJOY THE CHAPTER!**

**8. Tea on a Hot Tin Roof**

* * *

"Emilie, this is Joanne; Joanne, this is Emilie."

"Call me Jo," Joanne sticks out her hand, which I take in my own, nearly pulling back immediately because it's so cold.

"Pleasure to meet you, Jo," I smile.

"Come on, Emilie," Michelle hops back out onto the grass, "We've got something to show you." I follow her outside, and Jo follows me, and I'm about to sit down in Carl when Michelle says, "Actually, it's just around the back of my trailer, so I don't know if you want to ahh..."

"Oh, well if it's just in the back, then I won't bother," I smile again, straightening up, trying to make her feel more comfortable about Carl.

"Ok, then," and she leads us around the back, although when we first get back there, I don't see anything special, just the normal back wall of a trailer. "You're okay with ladders, right?" She asks, grabbing hold to a ladder that's attached to the wall and painted white (effectively camouflaging it from my fist glance), and climbing up onto the roof.

"Ladders are fine," I say, although I'm not sure. I haven't used a ladder since pre-cancer. _Well, I guess I'll just have to find out_, I remark internally, stepping forward and grasping the first rung. And then, I'm doing it, I'm climbing the ladder, climbing until my head peeks over the top and I see the surprise Michelle and Jo have set for me. It's wonderful. So, absolutely wonderful, while being so incredibly simple. There sits Michelle, three blankets folded next to her, and a small 'tea set' I front of her. It couldn't really be called a tea set, it only has three mismatched mugs, a bowl of sugar, a small cup of cream, and a thermos of what I assume is tea. "Wow," I say, finishing the climb and crawling over to sit near her.

"I texted Jo when I left to talk to Julian and asked her to set this up," she says sheepishly.

"She figured we'd have a little 'Welcome to Downton' tea party on top of her trailer," Jo says, joining us and grabbing the mugs and handing them out. "Of course, none of the other new people received such a grand welcome, but they're all adults and this isn't their first set."

"Well, it's wonderful, it really is. Although, I don't quite get why it had to happen on your roof."

"Look at the view," Michelle suggests.

"Oh," I can hardly help but gasp as my eyes feast on the view before me. I had been so focused on the tea that I had failed to actually ~look~ at where I was. And oh the view, you couldn't _not_ have a tea party on your roof with a view like this. Michelle's trailer was in the very back right corner of the grid, so from our vantage point, not only could we see the castle in all it's splendor, but also all of the trailers. There was something oddly magical about seeing those trailers with the backdrop of everyone's favorite house. In a way, it put an end to the cool mysteriousness of Downton Abbey, by proving it wasn't some aristocratic home in the 20's that some cameras just had the privilege to film, that instead it was a television set with actors acting the parts of fictional characters, only dressing up in costume to make you believe you were actually_ in _the 20's. But rather than

ruin the mystique of Downton for me, my eyes were opened and I saw before me the dwellings of the wizards and witches who brought forth a magical television show _simply because they could_. And I can't help but smile, I can't help but _grin_, because, because, because I get to be a part of it all.

"You know," Michelle breaks me from my reverie, "We usually stay in a hotel just down the road."

"But the way we're filming this series is new and the hotel said they wouldn't let us stay for 7 weeks," Jo adds.

"So here we are, with the best view in all of England," Michelle grabs a blanket and wraps it around herself, and handing one to me, while Jo pours us all tea.

"I can't say I disagree," I pull the blanket over my shoulders and tuck it in around my knees to cover me entirely, save my head. It's getting darker out now, and colder, too. Jo fills my mug, and I lean forward to add a spoonful of sugar.

"Oh, I see that a spoonful of sugar helps the Earl Grey how down, eh?" Jo laughs, spooning twice as much sugar into her mug.

"I've got a bit of a sweet tooth," I say, taking a careful sip, not wanting to burn my tongue.

"So do I," she winks.

"Don't we all?" Michelle remarks, although she only adds a splash of cream.

"So, Emile, tell me 'bout yourself," Jo crosses her legs, settling down as if for gossiping at a slumber party.

"What do you want to know about?"

"I don't care, tell us anything you like,"

"I suppose you're both dying of curiosity about my wheelchair," I figure I might as well just get it out of the way as soon as possible.

"Only if you want to share," she's so sweet.

"Eh, I don't mind..." I shift a bit, getting ready to tell my 'Cancer Story'. "When I was 11, and just about to enter sixth grade, I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, which is a kind of rare cancer found predominantly in children and young adults. Luckily for me, I only had one tumor, while I've met people with dozens. Anyway, that one tumor should have been easy to remove - one small surgery, and poof, it's gone - but because of it's placement, removing it would mean irreparable damage to my knee." I gesture to where it was; buried underneath my kneecap and embedded in my joint. "So I went to chemo, in the hope that it would prevent the tumor from spreading and eventually kill it off. I spent the next two years doing chemo and taking tons of pills. There were times when the tumor grew slightly, but most of the time it was shrinking. I was in a wheelchair 100% of the time during that,

but I didn't mind because the pain was so great that the thought of standing up and putting half my body weight on it, crushing the tumor, made me sick to my stomach. Finally, five months ago, the tumor had shrank to such a size that it could be removed through surgery. That went great, and three months later, I was proclaimed cancer free. I still can't be on my knee all the time, because that would damage it. It's like when an old person has knee surgery. They have to be off it for a while, but once they can start standing on it again, they have to start small. I still have Carl, my chair, because I needed to start small." I finish with a big puff of breath and take a big swig of my tea.

"Wow," is all Michelle can say.

"Yeah, ditto," Jo says. "So how much are you allowed out of the chair now?"

"Well, a month ago, when Julian first offered me the part, it was only four hours a day, two of which were consumed by physical therapy. Now, my time has been reduced greatly. There's no set time limit, but I'm supposed to stop for the day if I feel any pain, and I can only walk when necessary, which is more often than one might think."

"I see, I see," Jo nods.

"Well it looks like you'll be treated as royally as Maggie," Michelle laughs.

"Pardon?" Wait. What?

"Maggie, Maggie Smith, sorry-"

"_Dame_ Maggie Smith," Jo interrupts.

"Right. Dame Maggie Smith is treated like royalty on the set. She has someone to stand in for her during lighting, her own wig maker, and people _bring her chairs_,"

"Don't forget the being driven around in a golf cart," Jo adds.

"Oh yeah, and the woman never walks," Michelle laughs.

"I'm excited to meet her," I'm so pleased with how easily they've accepted me. It's obvious that their friendship is a close one, and they're both near the age of thirty, but here they are, welcoming a little 14-year-old American girl into their midst. I was worried about being the only kid on set, but I'm not anymore.

"Ahhh, there you are! I was getting worried," my mom says when I finally go home to our trailer, well after dark.

"Sorry, mom," I go and sit next to her on the couch, "Julian introduced me to Michelle, who then gave me a tour and brought me back to her trailer to meet Joanne and have tea on the roof with them."

"Tea on the roof? Sounds fun," she wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a kiss on the cheek. "Remind me, which ones are Michelle and Joanne?"

"Michelle Dockery is Lady Mary, and Joanne Froggatt is Anna," I supply.

"Right, right, I like those two."

"So, what are we working on?" I ask, gesturing to her the computer sitting on her lap, while pulling mine from the coffee table in front of her.

"Anatomy homework," My mom just recently decided she wanted to go back to school to get a degree in Mortuary Science, since she never finished college.

"Oh joy," I sigh, logging on to my fanfiction account.

"And you? What are you working on? You know you do have to go to bed at some point..."

"Yeah, I know. I've just got to quick write an author's note and post the next chapter... Julian wants to meet me at the office at 6 tomorrow." I mutter, already beginning to type.

"Ok, just have your alarm set," we fall into an easy silence after this. Luke is in bed, and there's something really great about it being just the two of us, despite the quiet. She trudges on through her Anatomy, and I my note...

_Hello my dear Highclereians!_, I begin. _You'll never guess where I am... Oh shoot, you got me. Yes, I am at Highclere right now, but I bet you won't guess where at Highclere... Go on, guess. No, I'm not in the physical castle... No, I'm not in the gardens... Wait. What was that? Bingo! I'm in a trailer! That's right, a trailer! But wait. Aren't trailers reserved for those involved with Downton? Aren't there only trailers around when Downton is being shot? The answer to both those questions is yes. And I am, actually, legally in this trailer, as it is MY (and my mom's and my brother's) trailer. Yes, mine. Do you know what that means? It means you'll have to wait until Series Four to know if I'm lying or not (which I'm not), but I was just recently given a part on Downton. Yes, Downton Abbey. *cue extreme fangirlilng* Anyway, I'm all super excited for you to see the show... We start shooting tomorrow! Enjoy the chapter, I'll see you next week:)_ And then at the end, I put a little _To answer your question, NO, I will not tell you (or anyone else) any Series Four spoilers!_ I finish and post the chapter, then shut my laptop and head off to bed.

"Hey mom," I come back out in my PJ's, with my toothbrush (and toothpaste) in my mouth, looking rabid, and holding my phone out to my mom. "Do you think it would be alright to tweet slash Instagram slash Facebook this picture?" The image on my screen is a selfie Jo, Michelle, and I took on top of the trailer. It's really great because you can see Highclere and all the trailers in the background, we're wrapped in blankets with mugs up to our faces, and the sky is a beautiful pink and orange with the setting sun.

"I don't know, honey. Do you have anyone's number that you could text and ask? Or you could ask Julian in the morning..." She takes my phone and studies the picture while I go back in the bathroom to rinse and put away my toothbrush. "I really like this picture, Em. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, I had a great time. They were both so welcoming, Jo especially. I was worried about not being able to hang out with the cast the same way because of my age, but I'm not so worried now," I take my phone back and go to bed, stoping just outside my door, "Goodnight mom,"

"Night honey, I'll see you in the morning."

"Yep," I go into my room. There's a set of bunk beds, and because I share it with Luke, I get the top. Once I'm all settled in bed and have paused to listen to Luke's breathing to make sure I haven't woken him, I text Jo.

Hey Jo, my mom was wondering if I could post the picture we took on Facebook so my grandparents and rest of the family could see?

It's always better to make it be your mom the one that's really asking.

Almost immediately there's a reply; _Hi Emilie, yeah you can tell your mum it's ok to post. I doesnt spoil anything about the series. What you can't post though is ANY plot lines or ANYTHING that reveals ANYTHING about the story. I find that quite annoying, but it is what it is_.

Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow :)

_See you tomorrow. :)_

I smile slightly with the knowledge of her annoyance, and then pull up Facebook to post the picture, already planning to say what a wonderful welcome it was. The clock strikes 11 just as I close my last social media app. _Ugh, only six hours of sleep. What a great way to start, Emilie. And you're not even tired_ I lie to myself in this last thought, as my eyelids feel heavy and droop over my eyes, I drift off to sleep with a smile on my lips and Highclere on my mind.

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

**_So, what did you think? If you're reading this between June 21st-27th, thank MunchkinLovesYou, because she is the most wonderful person and posted it for me (I'm at camp)! Also, news on THE FICTION GAMES can be found on the fanfic author page called The Fanfiction Games - Admin. Alrighty, byeeer!_**

* * *

_**MunchkinLovesYou's Note:**_

_**Hi! *waves***_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm not dead... so here's a chapter? idk, anymore... I'm loosing motivation on this story.**

* * *

**9. Little Wahini Baby**

I'm on a dark stage, alone. There's a cough from somewhere behind me, and I turn around to see dim lights on the floor. They give off enough light to tell me that the audience is full and that I'm on the stage at my school in Minnesota. _What the heck? How did I get here?_ That aside, my ears are greeted with an onslaught of fresh sounds just as soon as I turn. I hear one more cough, whispers, a child's yawn, and... is that? Yes it is. Uh-oh. It's the ruffling sounds of a pit orchestra picking up their instruments and the hushed one, two, three, four of the conductor striking up the band. I recognize the song as soon they start playing. It's one that's famous at our school from this year's musical, _Kokonut Kapers_. The three boys who performed it had to dress up in drag as hoola girls. The video of it was reposted by almost everyone by our school on their Facebook page. Yes, the orchestra is most definitely playing _Little Wahini Baby_.

It's just barely registered with me that, shouldn't the boys be on stage right now, when a spotlight hits me straight in the face, momentarily blinding me. I look down, and where my feet should be is a pedestal similar to the base of an Emmy Award. Dressed in a long flowing gown that I recognize as my favorite from my fitting with Downton's costumer earlier this week, I am utterly clueless as to what the heck is happening to me. Mist gathers around me, swirling and twirling in front of my eyes and taking the shape of music notes, matching the song. The song, which by now should have someone singing along to it.

"Cut!" Mrs. Grindahl yells from the back of the audience, and the house lights come up, blinding me once again. When I open my eyes, however, I am no longer in the theatre, but instead in the dining room at Highclere, and the person yelling is now Julian.

"Emilie," Alistair Bruce, Downton's historical consultant, approaches me from his chair beside Julian, "You must hold your knife like this," he takes the knife in his hand to demonstrate. He's just about to slice into the food on the plate in front of me, when the knife morphs into a huge cleaver and his hand shrinks to the size of Luke's. Trailing my eyes up along the arm attached to the hand, I discover that not only is the hand the size of Luke's, but actually his. Luke snatches the cleaver away from the table and begins running along the roof of Michelle's trailer. Before he can get to far, I yank the knife away from him, while my other arm wraps tightly around his middle to prevent him running right off the roof.

"Emilie!" I hear my mom yell from my left, but am unable to take my eyes off the now tantrum-throwing Luke. "Emilie! Emilie! Emilie Jane Christianson!" my mom shouts again and again, each time louder than the last, until finally...

* * *

I sit straight up in bed, only to fall back against the pillows when my head smacks the ceiling I forgot was there. Digging my phone out of my sweats pocket- and silencing the alarm set to play _Little Wahini Baby_- I climb down to quiet Luke, the poor boy sitting up in his bed sobbing.

"What was that all about?" my mom asks, coming out from her room the same time I carry Luke from ours.

"My alarm woke him up," I say through a yawn.

"Yeah, I know that. I was asking why it didn't wake you up," she takes Luke from me.

"Crazy dream... What time is it?"

"5:30, why?"

"Crappity crap crap crap," I whisper, dashing into our closet of a bathroom. "Don't let me shower longer than ten minutes!" I was supposed to wake up half an hour ago. No wonder Luke was crying so hard, I would too if I had to listen to that song for half an hour.

"Yeah, okay. I'll get some breakfast going," she replies.

* * *

Shoveling scrambled eggs on toast into my mouth with one hand while rapidly wheeling myself to the office with the other, I can't help but feel that the start of my day is a bad omen for the rest. Trying (and failing) to put my nerves aside, I focus on the task at hand. Shoot the 'arrival scene' without failing miserably. There I go again, getting overwhelmed. I pause a row away from my destination to take a deep breath and collect myself. I've always been able to deal with stage nerves and today is no different. Heart fluttering and a pit in my stomach, I'm reminded of my first audition in front of Mrs. Grindahl...

_Praying that no one could tell how badly my legs were shaking, or how sweaty my palms were; little eleven-year-old me stepped forward on the stage. I had barely been at this school a month, and had thought long and hard about auditioning before deciding that it would be fun, right? Right? Oh dear. "Hi, my name is Emilie Christianson, I'm 11, my homeroom teacher is Mrs. Simson, and my monologue is from _The Best Christmas Pageant Ever_," I said timidly in a voice a little too quiet, and a little too high. Mrs. Grindahl nodded for me to go ahead, so I drew a shaky breath whilst taking an extra long blink, and did what I had gone there to do._

That wasn't the best audition I've ever had, but it wasn't the worst, and I ended up with a pretty decent supporting role. Remembering that day and how far I've come since then calms me some. I roll on to the office, singing my lucky song, _Touch the Sky_, to calm me even more. Lucky for me, it works; by the time I'm seated across from Julian, my nerves have been cut almost in half.

"So, are you ready for today?" he asks with a smile.

"I hope so," I sigh, "It was a little weird learning the script like I did. Usually I learn the script with the blocking..."

"Making the transition from stage to screen can be difficult, but I hope you take comfort in the fact that no one is expecting you to be perfect on your first day," he tries to reassure me.

"You can try to comfort me all you want, it won't work,"

"Quite a lot of nerves, then?" Julian chuckles.

"Not more than I can handle," and I'm sure about that. Surprisingly enough, I've had worse days. "Although talking about it doesn't really help."

"Of course, of course," he shuffles some papers and puts on his reading glasses, "I wanted to meet early with you to hear your ideas on who you think Josephine Levinson is. What you understand about her from the script, what you yourself want her to be like, that sort of thing."

Oh dear, that is quite a big question, "Well, while going over the script and stuff, I've been doing a sort of 'bored teenager' thing, but I've been trying to work in a bit of a softer side, too."

"Good, good, well let's go over the car scene, and I'll give you some pointers on how to add that softer side," he picks up a script for himself, and nods for me to start, as I have the first line in the scene.

"Remind me again why this dreadful trip was necessary?" I say boredly, just like that first meeting with Katy Crawley.

* * *

"So then I say to him, I say 'Sir, you are a sexist, and your night will be sexless,'" Phyllis Logan finishes, causing our entire circle of legends-on-folding-chairs-plus-Em-on-Carl to erupt with laughter. We've spent about half an hour sitting like this in puffy coats and telling worst date stories, while the crew finishes setting up for the day. By now a pain has grown in my gut, partially from all of these tales, but also partially because of the people I'm laughing with. Everything is funnier when with friends, and that's what these people are to me; friends.

The conversation turned my direction just before Phyllis took her turn, but all I could say was that I'd only ever been on one date. In my living room. It wasn't a bad date at all, and I was pretty happy just to have a boy like me… Dudes don't really dig a girl on wheels. Everyone was just kind of quiet when I said that, and then Jo swooped in with 'Well, that won't be a problem after Series 4 comes out...'

* * *

Flopping onto my couch in exhaustion and pulling my laptop towards me, I open it to find that my mom has stuck a sticky note to my keyboard informing me that she took Luke into the nearby village for a 'field trip'. That's fine by me, interacting with other human beings - even if they do come with a face as cute as Luke's - just does not seem desirable right now, due today's shooting. It was alright at best, and I didn't mess up any of my lines, but marking is _impossible_. All of my acting career, I've only ever had to go roughly where the director tells me, but now I must go from spot one to spot two _exactly_. There were a couple of times that we had to reshoot simply because I was off my mark. My stomach drops to even remember, and I really don't want to… it seems the solution to this is to put on an episode of _Doctor Who_ and lose myself in ice cream.


End file.
